Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Well, here's another glorious first for America's space program. A trench coat. Seriously, a trench coat? Were a pair of Groucho Marx eyebrow glasses and a monster mask from the set of Scooby Doo not available?

Used to be the '60's Mercury astronauts couldn't afford to permit the slightest crack in their marriages to show, to the point where one of the Seven had to move back in with his estranged wife for appearance's sake. But NASA 2007: Wigs and BB guns. And a trench coat.

The hotel where she parked her car, btw, is about three quarters of a mile from the Blonde Bachelorette Pad, Central Swamp Edition. I know exactly where it is. Right by the Cracker Barrel. I imagine this will now be a point of advertisement for the LaQuinta Inn, Orlando Airport North location. ("Complimentary Breakfast, Free Wi-Fi, Reduced Rate for Pending Leno Punchlines.")

Several have been mystified why Astronaut Nowak wore diapers during her (charming, I'm sure) hurtle from Houston to Orlando. I have no idea how this whole love pentagon got started, but I do know where Nowak got the Depends idea: Her employer. The astronauts are diapered during liftoff since they spend so much time in the pressure suits, strapped to their couches. And after the mission, they fluid-load before landing to compensate for the fact that the human body, in orbit, mistakenly considers itself water-logged and so doesn't concern itself with a whole lot of retention. (I find this awesome. Next PMS cycle, I'm heading for the launchpad.) The water helps keep the crew from feeling lightheaded when they re-experience full gravity. Basically, if you're trying to line up the orbiter for landing going 200+ miles an hour with no second chances and half a gallon of water seeking an exit strategy, you don't want to be all, "Dude, we need to find a gas station." Sorry to ruin the whole Right Stuff mystique and all, but-- yeah. Diapered.

I'm also gratified to know that the parking security forces at the Orlando International Airport are useful for slightly more than frantic whistle-blowing at Mini Coopers that linger longer than .0000004 seconds at the passenger pickup exit.

Y'know, I read this story when I got up this morning, and knew it would be The National Story to lead all national stories today at work, and couldn't wait to get home from work because I suspected one Blonde Champagne would have offered her own Floridian take on the whole debacle.

I even suspected you would fully explain the adult-diapers thing. Thank you for meeting my expectations. ;-)

Oh, yeah, I get what you're saying there, but what I'm asking (and answer me honestly, please, cause I really want to know) is do you feel this "dry quality" has been missing lately-- because I haven't had the opportunity to post as much, or because when I do, the quality isn't what you might want? Seriously, tell me, because if I'm losing the fastball, I want to know.

I believe you still have the "stuff" on your fastball. With all that is going on in your life it's not fair to yourself to expect to be pitching everyday. Your good writing and wry wit still engages readers such as myself.- Dry Meter